Twitalia
by Neve Nerro
Summary: When Arthur Kirkland moves to the obnoxious country of the United States and meets the mysterious, alluring Alfred Zwingli-Vargas-Héderváry-Edelstein-Jones-Cullen, his life takes a thrilling and terrifying turn. USUK


**Disclaimer - Do not own Hetalia or Twilight  
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Neve: Yet... so this is our first joint story on this account. It's taken us over a term to write this but it's worth it. We're both happy with the results. I hope you enjoy it.

Nerro - Mmk I'm exhausted, and this is only the preface. I hope this satisfies USUK fetishes and ANTI-Twihards or Twihards. Oh hey, everyone's over Twilight now aren't they?

WARNING FOR MAJOR FUNKY RACIST ENGLAND THOUGHTS!

Review plox if you liked it or hated it :)

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><p><strong>Twitalia<strong>

**Preface**

My mother (that wanker) drove me to the airport with the window rolled up. It was fourteen degrees in London, the sky a dull, cloudy grey. I was wearing my favourite military jacket - a slimming, dark emerald colour made with 100% polyester fibre - It was a farewell gesture to all my magical friends. I would miss them dearly: Uni, Captain Hook, Tinkerbelle and Leprechaun. I was headed for an obese, red-neck infested, moronic, pot-headed country that completely abandoned Britain for the shitastic dream of becoming independent. _Feh_. Great to see it's working out for them - I hope they fall into ruins and land on their bloated ass. It was in this country and its fast food epidemic states that I was forced - after screaming and kicking - to spend every bloody summer.

I loved England. I loved the sturdy, manly food, the fish and chips. And here I was, leaving it behind.

...

When I landed in America it was scorching - literally - but I had to remember I'd already said my goodbyes to the rain, it was expected. Kiku was waiting for me with the panda car - he'd just gotten out of work. Brilliant. There's nothing better than driving home on your first day in a new country in the back of a cop's car.

Kiku had always been (thankfully) an un-talkative father, he preferred to refrain from speaking and he could always sense the mood - it was what made us click as father and daughter. He was also a bloody slow driver, granted he wasn't Italian, but that was no excuse for turning what should be a five minute drive into an hour long trek. As we droned down the highway I began to think. I began to think hard. It was a random, fleeting thought, but all I could think was:

Fuck my eyebrows.

I was going have a hard time fitting into a bunch of morons because of them; I always had wherever I went. When I got out the car (FINALLY) I was welcomed by the familiar silence that hovered around my father. "I have bought a bike for you," he murmured.

A bike? The hell? "Err, thanks," I grimaced, facing away from him, "You didn't have to do that."

"No need to thank me, you can pay me back when you start working - the rent too."

Stingy old man. If I didn't have such a father complex I would have abandoned him long ago. I'm also prone to being a loner because I'm socially awkward, so if I'd left him I would have gone insane. I'm not insane. My friends are not imaginary, despite what my many counsellors repeatedly tell me. I don't believe in ridiculous, fictional creatures such as Vampires and Werewolves. Anyway, I'm going to have to get a job as soon as possible before I'm kicked out of the house - as nice as Kiku can be.

….

…..

When I saw where I was about to spend the rest of my highschool life in (unless I was kicked out) a part of me died. It was something that I would (to say the least) need to adjust to, and I predicted it would take more than a lifetime. It looked as if it would collapse any minute now - it was made out of toothpicks and chopsticks for God's sake! And it smelt...it smelt like...raw fish? I'll go insane in less than an hour! Nevertheless, I moulded on my best smile for Kiku to rid of any lingering suspicions that really I was completely, utterly devastated. You know, he was a sensitive guy.

"When did you renovate?" I asked attempting to keep my voice impartial. Kiku, who was struggling to lift my suitcase from the trunk of the panda car, said nothing for a moment. "Kiku?" I asked again, sure he hadn't heard me the first time.

"Six months ago," he said walking beside me with my suitcase in hand. He slid the door open and once again I felt my anger reach its limit. Great... No fucking locks. Now I'd have to buy a gun...and use what little savings I had... petty cash. Damn these Americans and their twisted ethics, I'm surprised they haven't broken into house, drugged him, raped him and sold him into prostitution.

After I was forced to remove my shoes Kiku gave me a quick tour and eventually we came to my new room: a block of empty space, or whatever it was, "I have taken the liberty of throwing away all your old possessions."

"Thanks..." I rolled by eyes, this never gets old.

Kiku left me to settle into the empty room after muttering, "dinner is at seven." I had decided that the first thing I'd buy (after the gun) was a bed since all I had was a flimsy mattress in the corner and a peculiar wooden table which barely had enough room to fit my legs under. I pulled my laptop out of my carry-on bag and placed it on the sorry-excuse-for-a-table only to discover that there was no available wireless. BLIMEY! Life doesn't get any better.

"Shite!" I shouted down the hallway unable to contain my frustration, "where the bloody hell is the Internet?" I knew Kiku didn't like to shout so I left to the living room, almost slipping in my socks which made little friction with the floor. Kiku was drinking a disgusting, bitter tea that was too green for my liking in a cup with no handle. Seriously, a cup – with no handles? Who makes these things?

"Are you settled in?" he asked as I stumbled into the room.

"No, I'm not," I said bluntly, "There's no internet connection in my room." Kiku just sipped his tea again with a lack of sympathy.

"Have you tried standing on the roof?"

"The roof?" The _roof_…ingenious...could this place get any better? "No Kiku, I haven't tried the roof yet," I spat through my clenched teeth.

And so there I sat, jet-lagged, and on top of my useless father's roof with my laptop on my knees with about two bars connection. I had a new message from my mother who bombarded me with a ridiculous amount of questions (most likely because he was a hopeless housewife with nothing better to do). I responded in the most cheerful and civil manner that I could (as time-consuming as it was), but I struggled to go into detail since I had only just settled in this rotten place - he was already pestering me about any cute boys in school for goodness sake.

After I sent the email I felt somewhat hungry, my stomach growled. I wondered unwillingly what strange _stuff _Kiku would have prepared. Incidentally, a lurid, revolting, fishy stench slipped its way out the window and crawled up the roof with criminal stealth. It dug deep into my nose and I winced, but strangely enough I wasn't displeased. I climbed down the roof and made an awkward jump through the window. I stumbled as I landed, the tacky bamboo or whatever the hell it was crunched under my feet as I made my way to the kitchen. Kiku was looking at me with a blank expression, when I saw raw fish on the table I chagrined. I chagrined very vividly. In fact, I chagrined for more than three minutes before I made my way to the familiar, annoyingly low table, and I chagrined again. Okay that's enough chagrining - the muscles in my face were spasm-ing because of all that chagrining - I honestly didn't know how Edward Cullen did it.

Dinner was silent and uneventful, as expected. Only the sounds of the chopsticks clattering around the ceramic bowls could be heard, I had proudly mastered the art of eating with chopsticks, in fact, I could even pick up a corn seed if I had to. Because of my Asian upbringing, people would call me _confused_, and constantly reminded me that it wasn't healthy. I had no idea how my parents managed to produce an Englishman like myself, but it didn't change the fact they were my parents and therefore I wasn't going to condemn them for being culturally different from the western society. Western society was what brought them apart. I always knew Kiku had a longing to understand America and its idiotic democracy or whatever. I've no idea what I'm talking about right now...I think this fish is making me high.

I snapped out of it when Kiku asked: "Are you finished with your dinner?" he had a vague expression that made me wonder what he was thinking about at this very moment... about mother... his job. Right. There is - without a doubt - something out of place, and it was lingering in this room. I could smell it.

"I'll help you with the dishes," I said just to be polite, in actual fact I'd rather have gone straight to bed... or - well - that bamboo thing since I was practically nodding to sleep as I spoke. Kiku dismissed me, and told me he'd prefer to do it alone, and of course I, being the perfect and ideal daughter, wasn't going to argue with him.

So I collapsed onto the mattress (yowch) and regretted the stupid decision immediately. This slate of rock was lacking the spongy quality of a REAL bed! In short, it was like I'd fallen on hard concrete. I let a groan escape as I rolled onto my back. It was in this moment of nostalgia that Tinkerbelle decided to fly in through the open window with glitter whirling around and all. I groaned, "Hello Tinkerbelle."

"Hello Arthur you seem upset!" Tinkerbelle squealed in her shrill, high-pitched voice. I distinctly remember her ear-pulling soprano voice once used to piss the hell out of me, but now it was like a lullaby to my ears. Tinkerbelle's tiny wings buzzed in the air, "Is something bothering you?"

She was so sweet, "Well yes, but now that you're here I'm feeling much better. So how is everyone? Is the Captain keeping his pervy little hook off you?"

As I was in the midst of reminiscing with my old friend, I'd failed to notice a ghostly presence standing at the door. Kiku looked as if his soul had just leaked through his mouth and his expression obviously read: my daughter is insane. I should really introduce my friends to him...but they were shy. I heard my door slide shut so I assumed Kiku had heard us and chose to respect our privacy. He could be pretty understanding. My conversation with Tinkerbelle lasted for hours - and with Tinkerbelle _only_ because apparently everyone else was on vacation. When she left, I was left to think alone in the room, and at that very moment I felt a surge of regret consume me. It was funny how I only realized it just then.

I wished I stayed in England.


End file.
